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Transformation
7/16/2011 Back to 2011 Logs Venture Hammerstrike First Aid Metro-X Ratchet Prowl Jackknife 0.1.0 Rusty Scrapyard A fairly large pile of scrap lies here, the large mound of red rust tinting the skyline. Everything in the pile has long since rusted, and not even the most desperate of scavengers pick through the refuse. Occasionally, items from the top of the rust heap fall, tumbling down to the bottom and sending a plume of rust into the air. Venture has been dismembered, though her head is still attached to her torso. Not that that does her much good, as she still can't transform or move in any way, but is effectively stranded. Numerous puncture wounds have been made to her remains, and even her helmet shows obvious signs of blunt force taken against it, with numerous cracks readily apparent. One optic's been ripped out, and the other is hanging on by wires. Her radio's been ripped out too, of course. All she can do is observe the part of the junkyard that her remaining optic has been left to dangle toward. There is a resonation, a mild tremor that can be noticed among the more delicate or precarious pieces of rusted scrap. Thump. Thump. It gets louder as Hammerstrike into the scrap yard, causing plumes of oxidized sediments to puff up and swirl around his feet. The large mech is staring straight ahead, his gaze not wandering from the horizon. However, even without looking about in earnest, something, or rather someone, freshly dismantled does snare the optics. Hammerstrike comes to a stop and stares for a silent moment, squinting his optics, before he walks more delicately over. He bends down on one knee beside the fallen and mangled form, but is careful not to touch the much smaller Transformer, only using visual cues to check for signs of life. Venture's optic flickers a couple times, accompanied by a soft clicking as her visual circuitry tries to stay online. She becomes vaguely aware of someone else's presence, but it's only by the crunching of rust beneath his feet. "H...H...Hellllp?", she says, her vocalizer obviously damaged, the sound produced having a hiccup to it, like Max Headroom. "You're... online?" comes the incredulous baritone of the mech. "Rest assured, you will be helped," comes a second comment in a more level monotone. He flicks on his radio and speaks into it, saying "Hammerstrike reporting. There is a critically damaged femme here, coordinates 0.1.0. Please send emergency response." Hammerstrike says, "Hammerstrike reporting. There is a critically damaged femme here, coordinates 0.1.0. Please send emergency response." "T...T...Thank y...y...you," Venture manages to communicate, her voice continuing to sound distorted as before. She tries to move her arms and legs, causing the shoulder/hip joints to rotate sporadically, but there's nothing attached to them anymore. First Aid says, "On my way, Hammerstrike. I'll be there as quick as I can." Hammerstrike shakes his head. "Save your energy," he says firmly, "help is on the way." Venture ceases trying to move her non-existent limbs. "C...C...Careful," she intones, as if giving a warning. "Is whatever did this to you still close by?" Hammerstrike inquires in response to the warning. "M...M...Maybe," comes the reply. "D...D...Don't know." Hammerstrike inclines his head and stands up again. "I will protect you." With that said, he takes a few steps away and reaches for his hammer as precaution. His optics scan the area for anything threatening. "N...N...Not much left to protect," Venture emits, her speech reminiscent of Max Headroom, with strange flanging and stuttering. Hammerstrike says, "Caution. Attacker may still be in the area." "N...N...Not much left to protect," Venture emits, her speech reminiscent of Max Headroom, with strange flanging and stuttering. First Aid arrives more quickly than he'd estimated, catching a ride with Metro-X. As the triple changer pulls into the scrapyard, and is already clambering down to the ground and heading for Hammerstrike at a run. "What happened?" Transforming to robot form as First Aid disembarks, Metro lands with a controlled thud, knees bending briefly to absorb shock even as his turrets re-extend, on both his arms and shoulders, optical screen flashing online as he surveys the area... He was informed it was an emergency after all. Metro-X's form shifts and rearranges itself, panels opening, parts sliding into place, forming into his robot mode. Hammerstrike glances over to First Aid, his hammer raised when he sees the sudden movement. However, upon recognizing First Aid, he lowers it and shrugs his shoulders. "I found her like this." he then glances at Metro-X for a long moment, giving a stiff nod of his head, then resumes searching the surrounding area for threats, but still won't stray far from Venture's strewn form. First Aid is already focusing on the injured bot. "You need Ratchet for this, not me-" First Aid says, pulling a scanner and kit from subspace and running a scan. "But the sooner we can get her back to Iacon, the better." Whoever did this to Venture is long gone, but Venture couldn't know that, so she'd tried to warn Hammerstrike. When she hears others arrive, she says, "D...D...Decepticons?" First Aid attaches an energon drip line, not even having to remove armor to access a brachial line, although most of the lines have sealed themselves off or the femme would have bled to death breems ago. "That's as good as it's going to get here- she's made it thsi long- we need to get her back to Iacon as fast as possible." Metro-X grunts slightly "So I should have remained in my other form..." frowning somewhat and looking between the three Autobots for the moment, awaiting to see if they need his aid further. A brief look is spared for Hammerstrike, though, offering one hand, "Metro-X." Hammerstrike remains alert, not responding to First Aid's remarks. Satisfied that the area is safe he turned to First Aid and nods, then looks past First Aid to whom he had arrived with. He glances at the hand a moment before taking it with a firm but brief grip. "Hammerstrike." He glances down at First Aid, then the fallen femme, then back to Metro-X. "I cannot transport her." First Aid vents air, hard. "Metro-X, would you mind terribly?" "V...Ven...Venture," the unfortunate femme utters in turn, if only to signal that she's still conscious. "No need to get snarly about it, Autobot." the big mech notes to First Aid before he steps back and transforms into the massive transport fortress that is his other mode, extending his loading ramps "Room for all." Metro-X's body shifts and opens in various places, wings sliding into flight positions, gun turrets extending and clicking into place, leaving him in his SCM Enforcer mode. First Aid pats the femme gently on what remains of her shoulder.. "I'm First Aid- you're Venture? Nice to meet you." Hammerstrike walks over and kneels by Venture, but then gives an inquiring look to First Aid for confirmation before attempting to lift her. First Aid nods 'just be careful," He gets back to his feet, gathering some of the strewn components before realizing belatedly that most of Venture is simply not /there/ to be gathered up... "She needs Ratchet." Hammerstrike burrows his forearms under the rust beneath Venture's torso, and then lifts her evenly and gently into his large bulky arms. Standing slowly, he walks over to Metro-X and enters, looking for a place to gently yet securely lay her down, then moves away to give First Aid easier access to her. "R...Rat...Ratchet won't be happy," Venture intones. Metro-X extends one of the benches on the side of his cabin for Hammerstrike to use, seats and crash webbing raising into place for the other two to make use of as they may. First Aid scrambles up into the cabin after Hammerstrike and Venture. "Thank you, Metro" He says. With Metro's help, Hammerstrike is able to get Venture secured and as comfortable as one could be missing most of their limbs. He then heads out of the cabin, saying "I'm heavy. I'll walk back. No arguments." "Be careful, Hammerstrike!" Aid calls after the larger Bot. "If you really prefer... keep safe out there, Hammerstrike." the big mech bobs slightly once everyone is on board, making sure the other can get off board safely. And then the hatch is up and he is on his way, kicking in the afterburners once he is certain he won't blast the mech with the backwash. First Aid says, "Ratchet, I'm coming in with one injured- Metro-X will be landing at the dome entrance to offload us." Ratchet says, "Injured _how_?" First Aid says, "I'm not sure and she's not making much sense other than that it was Decepticons. She's.. there's not much left of her, Ratchet, but she's more or less stable." Ratchet says, "Stable remains. Wonderful. All right -- Bay's open." ---- Repair Depot Metro-X thunders in as fast as his jets will take him, swinging down into the repair depot, heading for the building marked emergency, his gangway open even before he lands. All the while his radio systems have been sending tight beam emergency pings to Iacon, noting damaged cargo in need of immediate medical aid. First Aid races down the ramp from Metro's cabin at a run to grab a gurney from just inside the emergency repair bay. "I...acon?", Venture asks with her damaged vocalizer as First Aid hops down the ramp. Metro-X hovers near, making sure to keep Venture from moving too much, waiting for the femme to be offloaded. Metro-X hovers near, making sure to keep Venture from moving too much, waiting for the femme to be offloaded. "I need a designation now," Ratchet calls from deeper in the 'Bay. "Venture-" Aid replies, pushing the gurney back up the ramp into Metro-X's cabin and transferring her carefully onto the gurney. "Thank you, Metro-" he says, pushing the gurney back down the ramp more carefully. Once it's clear, Metro transforms again, moving to help First Aid move the gurney, if he's allowed, or at least follows behind if not. "No need for thanks..." cyan optics half-dimmed, the brow ridges furrowing close together. Metro-X's form shifts and rearranges itself, panels opening, parts sliding into place, forming into his robot mode. Venture's remaining optic flickers dimly, accompanied by a soft clicking as her visual circuitry tries to stay online. Ratchet taps the designation into his data pad and pulls up Venture's medical records. He looks at the remains and frowns, searching the records for a given entry. His optics narrow and he grunts, handing the data pad to First Aid. First Aid scans the data pad, optics growing brighter with confusion and distress. "An advance directive? What does this mean, Ratchet? We don't try to repair her?" Metro looms over the mechs now, one optic ridge up, head tilted to one side, hands folding behind his back. He doesn't speak though, certain he'll learn what all that means if he keeps his vocoder silenced. Panic strikes Venture when she hears First Aid saying something about not trying to repair her. Her optic glows more brightly in alarm. Ratchet waves Metro-X out of the Med bay with a pointed look. "It means," he tells First Aid, "that we do what we can, but if we can't get her stable in this frame, we put her in a transfer core and move her to another one." His voice drops to a growl. "Apparently Prowl's helped her go through the catalog. Venture! Congratulations, you've hit the big time this round! I'll bet your creators are so proud..." He starts pulling out surgical implements from the main table's storage. "What frame, Ratchet? There's nothing /left/ to this frame." First Aid says. He goes to the cabinet to get a coolant drip to add to the energon drip he started on site. "P...rowl?", Venture repeats with her broken voice, not cognizant enough to understand what Ratchet is saying. Ratchet frowns more deeply. "Hold off on the drips until I see the laser core," he says. He starts working off the panels and begins issuing profanity as soon as he can see the cracked spark casing. First Aid clenches his hands around the transfusion kit. "What is it?" He tries to look without getting in Ratchet's way. Venture's eye brightens again when she realizes someone's poking around in her head. Panicking, her shoulder joints rotate, making a grinding noise, having forgotten that she doesn't have arms. "What does it look like? I can't weld this," Ratchet announces in disgust. "Check the advance directive and get a new laser core, to Prowl's and Venture's order. Mind as well drop the drips." He starts clamping lines around the spark chamber. First Aid nods, putting the drips down on the berth uncertainly and picking up the data pad, his expression changing rather comically from dismayed to confused as he reads through it. "But she's not sized for- oh. Oh." He shakes his head and puts the pad down, heading to the supply closet to get the part requested, returning a bream later with a sealed container. Venture's left shoulder joint finally grinds so badly that it stops trying to move, and a moment later, the right one stops voluntarily, the owner having remembered there is no arm connected to it anymore. Her optic continues flickering. "All right, Venture," Ratchet says, enunciating clearly over the rapidly destabilizing femme. "Game over, for now. You're going into a new laser core, and barring complications, you'll be in a new frame and operational within an orn." He pauses. "Primus go with you." The CMO reaches behind the mortally wounded transformer and strikes her shutdown switch. Venture's optic fades to dark, and the tiny servo still attached to it stops clicking as her mind and body go dormant. First Aid watches with utter stillness as Ratchet deactivates the femme- even though he knows what's going on, it's hard to watch. He brings the box over to Ratchet and prepares to open the carefully sealed pieces at the senior medic's command. Ratchet starts splicing the intakes for the transfer vessel into the hoses feeding into the femme's spark chamber. He tests every tube weld no fewer than three times before he issues the command for First Aid to open the vacuum in the vessel to draw out the spark from the deactivated shell. First Aid hits a switch on the transfer vessel, opening the vacuum seal on it and activating a tiny amber status light on the front that blinks a few times before settling to a steady amber and then green as the spark is transferred and containment stabilizes. He glances at Ratchet to make sure he's done it correctly. Ratchet nods with a satisfied rev. "That'll hold for at least half an orn," he says resignedly. "We should be able to get it transferred over sooner." He starts to run his comm once the spark is continually stable for a breem. Ratchet says, "Prowl?! Your slag aft had better have this all planned out." First Aid nods, carefully setting the transfer vessel onto the center of the berth and pulling a tarp out from a cabinet underneath the berth to cover the grayed out frame lying on top of it. First Aid's visor brightens. Behind it, he is probably a bit wide-opticked. It's always surprising to hear Ratchet being so um... casual... with the command-level officers. Prowl intones: "Excuse me Ratchet?' Ratchet says, "I've got an AD down here that tells me I should be putting a cycle former’s spark into a tank casing. It's got your chevron all over it. Where's the pit-slagging frame?!" First Aid mouths 'tank casing' and tilts his head questioningly at Ratchet. Prowl exvents softly then states matter of factly, "For Venture, yes I put my signature on that and the frame is where it's been since it arrived. Shuttle storage room B if my records show correctly." Ratchet picks up the data pad, hits a few buttons, and hands it to First Aid without a word. First Aid looks at the data pad again, this time reading all the way to the bottom. His optic ridges are completely hidden by the shape of his visor and helm, but the surprise is visible in every line of his frame. "Tank casing. Right." He puts the pad down. "That's a really big frame, Ratchet." And go-fer or not, Aid isn't going to be able to go and get that by himself. Ratchet says, "Well then, since this is in your master plan... Get some pit-fonging haulers down there and get that frame to the 'Bay now, because we're running your precious directive now! And then, you go ahead and be sure to do some better math when you're sticking your chevron into a 'Bot's medical directives -- got me, Door wings?!" Prowl's voice takes on a dangerous edge, "My math is not in question here, but your inability to deal with emergency situations in a calm manner is doctor. You'll have your cargo momentarily. Now if you don't mind, get back to your patient." Static fills the line. "Don't you tell me what I'm supposed to do in my 'Bay, Prowl," Ratchet says in a deceptively calm hiss. "We'll be discussing this the next time you're my patient." Prowl states calmly, "We'll talk about this with Prime and we'll just see who he sides with doctor." Jackknife says, "Oh for Primus sake...." First Aid is listening in on the comm conversation with a ... bemused expression. He goes back to spreading the tarp over the berth. Jackknife says, "Please just stop you two and act like grown mechs. Ratchet, we'll be there soon with your delivery." Jackknife arrives with some of the bigger mechs that she could grab and convince to help her out. She's assisting with the movements by pushing and directing. "A bit more to the left. Forward easy. And we're in." "We'll need it supine on a berth," Ratchet says, indicating one of the larger accommodations in the 'Bay. First Aid stays out of the way, keeping half his attention on the green blinking status indicator on the transfer vessel. Jackknife inclines her head to the mech and moves to the head of the empty case, "Grab a part mechs. On three. One. Two. Three!" and with a heave of all of those there, the case is lifted from the rolling transporter. "Four steps to our left. Good. Watch your skid plates. Easy." around the berth they go until it’s over it, "And down easy. Good job all. Thank you." she smiles. First Aid moves over to examine the large, inactive frame. "She's going from femme to mech in addition to changing three classes in frame size?" He asks, curiously. Ratchet nods, his expression dry. "Yep," he says simply. "I need to have a talk with our command staff about enacting their whims through patients' medical documents," he mutters over an irritated rev as he pops the chest plates open on the new frame. Jackknife looks over the body then at the destroyed frame of Venture. "Maybe I could offer some assistance doctors?" she asks softly. First Aid watches for a moment and then goes to the supply room, returning with large containers of energon and hydraulic fluid. "Should I begin filling up his fluid reserves, Ratchet?" "Probably a good idea," Ratchet replies to First Aid as he hefts the transfer casing onto the berth to rest between the new frame's body and arm. "Jackknife, help me get this positioned for the transfer, please." First Aid extends a tool from one finger and uses it to remove one of the new frame's ventral plates, accessing the primary system ports. Hooking a hose up to coolant and hydraulic fluid containers takes only a klik, and he begins filling the new frame's systems from the containers. "What about energon? Should we transfuse it, or add it directly to his tank, or what?" Jackknife moves over to assist the CMO. "Sure thing Ratchet." she smiles and moves to the opposite side of the frame, out of the way. "It shouldn't be too hard to alter this frame work just slightly. I can easily see where to cut into it without messing up the structural integrity." she states. "After all I don't think the femme would want to look like a mech forever." Ratchet starts splicing the hoses for spark injection into the new body's appropriate sockets. He doesn't look up when he answers First Aid. "Transfusions first... When we're sure the new setting is stable, we can start filling the tank," he says. "Start with half-grade, preprocessed for now. If everything works properly, we can step up to low grade upon consciousness." He activates the transfer. First Aid nods, disconnecting the hoses for coolant and hydraulic fluid as they finish filling reservoirs, returning them to the supply room and returning with several cubes of dilute half-grade energon and a transfusion rig, quickly setting it up to feed into the mech- femme- whatever's- left brachial line. Jackknife stands at ready to assist either of the medics, watching on quietly. She moves over to help First Aid as best as she is able to since he only has two hands. "Load up what needs loaded, and we can close up and monitor. Hopefully everything integrates, but we'll see soon enough," Ratchet announces as he taps the meter on the transfer vessel as it finishes emptying and starts sealing and removing hoses. First Aid nods, carefully setting the transfusion to continue at a slow but steady rate and sweeping the used packaging from the kit into a trash bin. Ratchet seals the chest plates and starts the berth side monitor with a download subroutine to Venture's medical records. He mutters a few words under his breath and goes back to his office to imbibe deeply of his stash of high grade. Jackknife cocks her head at Ratchet's mutters and sighs, "Poor overworked mech." Category:LogsCategory:2011 LogsCategory:First Aid's LogsCategory:Jackknife's LogsCategory:Ratchet's LogsCategory:Venture's LogsCategory:Hammerstrike's LogsCategory:Metro-X's Logs